


'Cause You Gotta Have

by china_shop



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, due South
Genre: Crossover, Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-29
Updated: 2009-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Detective, I hear you apprehended a young woman called Faith Lehane," said Welsh, eyeballing them across his desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Cause You Gotta Have

**Author's Note:**

  * For [woolly_socks](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=woolly_socks).



> I fudged the timeline a little. Many thanks to mergatrude for beta, and to arysteia for suggestions regarding the prompt: F/K, "The kind of hatchback that gets noticed."

Ray fed the parking meter. "Meet you back here in fifteen," he said and checked he had his wallet and the bill from the gas company with him.

"Right you are," said Fraser. His hat cast a shadow across the top half of his face, making him look big-jawed, heroic and anonymous. Ray wondered if big-jawed heroes ever fell for their partners, shrugged that thought aside like he always did and went to run his errands. Dief went with Fraser to get the Ice Queen's dry cleaning.

Twelve minutes later Ray was still standing in line at the bank.

Fifteen minutes later he stopped off at an espresso stand and bought a cup of coffee.

Two minutes after that, he was heading back to the car, sipping his coffee, when he overheard a woman say, "Now that's the kind of hatchback that gets noticed!"

"What's that?" asked the guy she was with.

The woman pointed across the street. "The one with the Mountie on the roof."

"What's a Mountie doing in Chicago," the guy probably replied, except Ray had already dropped his coffee and the papers from the bank, and had hurled himself into pursuit of the white Toyota hatchback with the Fraser hood/roof ornament.

Car tires squealed behind him, too, but Ray didn't have time to check out who or what was following, because Fraser was hanging onto the hatchback by the skin of his fingernails and talking like he was making a public service announcement.

"Miss," said Fraser loudly, "please stop the vehicle. This is not your automobile."

How is this my life? Ray asked himself as he clambered over a cab that'd pulled out without looking, and hurried on. Dief ran up beside him, all business.

Maybe Fraser got through to the car thief or maybe she was trying to avoid the people protesting the price of watch straps outside the jeweler's on the corner, who knew? Either way, the car fishtailed and swerved into an alley, sending Fraser flying to the ground.

"You okay?" Ray asked, as he ran past.

"I'm fine," said Fraser. "Stop her."

Ray put on an extra burst of speed and turned the corner after the car, only to see it slam into the back of a parked fruit delivery van. The delivery guy dropped oranges and lemons all over the ground and yelled, "This is a loading zone! Didn't you see the sign? Can't you read?"

But the driver — a dark-haired girl in tight black jeans and a red leather jacket — was already out of the car, on her feet, taking off.

"Chicago PD," yelled Ray, scrabbling for his gun. "Freeze."

The girl shouted, "Get away from me!" and glanced over her shoulder, throwing herself off balance. She tripped on a grapefruit and tumbled to the ground. Dief was standing over her in seconds, growling, his hackles up like he'd borrowed Ray's hair gel.

The girl kicked out at Dief and jumped up like Jackie Chan. She raised her fists. "Leave me alone!"

"Cool down, okay!" said Ray, training his gun on her.

"There's nothing to be afraid of." Fraser arrived breathless at Ray's side, carrying his hat. "What's your name?"

"Charity," said the girl. Ray's gun must've got through to her, 'cause she put her hands up with a flourish. "Charity Summers."

"Okay," said Ray, not looking away for a second. "Well, Miss Summers, you're—"

"Who's chasing you?" Fraser interrupted.

"We are, Fraser," Ray told him. This was routine stuff. Had Fraser hit his head when he flung himself off the hatchback?

"No one," said Charity. "No one, I just—" She pointed past Ray and her voice rose in panic. "There, there they are."

Ray wheeled around instinctively, but the alley was empty and when he turned back, Charity and Dief had both vanished. "Where'd they go? They were right here!" Ray looked around wildly. There was nowhere for them to be hiding — the garbage undisturbed, the doors shut except for the restaurant that the fruit guy was delivering to, and the fruit guy was blocking the doorway there.

"Oh dear," said Fraser.

"You're telling me." Ray looked at him. One of his epaulettes was torn and he had a cut on his nose. Ray nearly reached out his hand to trace the graze, but stopped himself just in time. He looked away scowling. "You have got to stop taking joyrides on moving vehicles, Fraser. You're not indestructible."

"No, I know," said Fraser, serious enough that Ray looked at him again, caught a flash of recognition in his eyes. Or something. Ray knew better than to trust his instincts when it came to Fraser. The Mountie uniform was like a magnet to Ray's own inner compass, static on his inner radio station. He could never tell if he was getting a real message or just crossed wires.

 

* * *

 

"Detective, I hear you apprehended a young woman called Faith Lehane," said Welsh, eyeballing them across his desk.

"Who?"

Welsh passed Ray a mug shot and Ray glanced at it. "She said her name was Charity Summers," he said and passed the paper to Fraser.

"Actually, she got away, sir," Fraser added.

Welsh rubbed his face. "Drop it, both of you. Upstairs has issued an edict that—"

"She stole a car." Ray dug his hands in his pockets. He hated when the brass stuck their oar in.

"This is not a request, detective." Welsh leaned his elbows on the desk. "The top dogs have made it very clear that Ms Lehane is to be left to the appropriate authorities."

"Us," said Ray, nodding.

Welsh glared at him.

"Then who?"

"That's not for you to know," Welsh said, taking back the mug shot and closing the file.

Fraser cleared his throat. "I think she may be in need of assistance, sir. Not to mention that she has Diefenbaker."

Welsh sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Far be it for me to stand between a Mountie and his wolf," he said wearily. "Just keep it on the QT, all right, Constable? This is not police business."

"Yes, sir," said Ray. "We'll dress up like animal control and no one will notice a thing"

Welsh growled. "Get outta here."

"Thanks, Lieutenant," said Fraser, all but saluting. Ray shoved him out the door.

 

* * *

 

Ray headed south down the expressway. It was turning out to be a very long day. "She's a felon, Fraser."

"She's a young girl in a big city. Alone and frightened." Fraser turned his hat in his hands, all set to start telling Ray about the desperate straits he'd been driven to, that time he made soup with his shoe.

"A young girl who knows how to hotwire a car is not going to starve," Ray told him.

"You can't eat a car, Ray," Fraser said, "and she's being pursued by dangerous men with connections at the highest levels."

Ray overtook a convertible and then glanced across the front seat at Fraser. "She lied about her name. Who knows what else she's lying about?"

"Dief went with her voluntarily." Fraser smoothed the brim of his hat, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "He's a very good judge of character."

"Fraser." Ray shook his head, smiling a little, already resigning himself to the Mountie Vortex of Crazy that was bound to suck them in. He unfolded his sunglasses and slid them on. "Fine. I'll make some calls."

Fraser shot him a grateful look. "Thanks, Ray."

"Hey, the wolf's family."

 

* * *

 

The motel sign buzzed. The O and the L were both out. The ugly brown paint on the fence was peeling, and the cars in the parking lot were all on their last wheels.

"Sandor said Julio told him a teenage girl and a dog checked in here a couple of hours ago," said Ray. "Room 106."

"Good work, Ray." Fraser had perked up now they were hot on the trail.

"Don't thank me too soon," said Ray. "We still have to convince the kid to let us help her out of the shit creek she's up." They made their way semi-stealthily along the forecourt.

There was a familiar bark from inside room 106.

"What?" came Faith's reply. "Are you possessed or something? I told you, I don't need you looking out for me. I don't need anyone." There was a series of thwacks. "Why won't this shitty TV—"

Fraser knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Faith sounded alert, like she was about to bolt out a window.

Dief barked again.

"It's Ray Vecchio and Benton Fraser," said Ray. "We just want to help."

"Beat it," shouted Faith through the door. "I don't need that kind of help. I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can," said Fraser, matter-of-factly. "We're really just here to collect my wolf."

The door cracked open. "He's a wolf?"

"Half-wolf, actually," said Fraser.

Dief pushed past Faith and stuck his head out the door. Faith looked at him doubtfully. "Like, a werewolf?"

She seemed serious. The kid had been reading too many comic books. Ray smiled. "Just a regular half-wolf."

Dief growled.

"An exceptional regular half-wolf," Ray told him. "Jeez."

Faith opened the door wider and stood with her hip cocked, one hand high up on the door, the other in her pocket. She was still wearing the black jeans but the leather jacket had gone south, leaving her in a low-cut tank top that drew attention to her cleavage.

Ray looked away, but not before Faith caught him checking her out. She smirked. "Drop the act, okay? I know why you're here."

"Are you sure about that?" asked Fraser, oblivious as always to the undercurrents.

"You're after me the same reason everyone else is after me." She licked her plum-lipstick-colored lips provocatively and raised her chin. "I'm warning you — I'm tougher than I look, and I'm not screwing either of you." She smiled slowly, no warmth in it. "Well, not unless you ask real nice."

Ray hid a grin. She was one tough cookie, but she was playing them all wrong. The girl had obviously never met a Mountie before.

"Why are those men chasing you?" Fraser asked.

"Yeah," said Ray. "They sure got some pull."

"Don't pretend you don't know," said Faith. She peered past them to the parking lot, her eyes scanning nervously.

"Humor me," said Ray.

Faith waved them inside, took one more look around to make sure no one had seen, and shut the door. "It's my step-father," she said. "He's all, you know, connected. And he wants to take me to England. He's got a thing for young girls, you know what I mean?" Her lip curled, then she shrugged. "I'm not going. I've got to get to my cousin in California. I'll be okay once I get there."

"Why should we believe you?" asked Fraser, taking off his hat.

"It's the truth." She met his gaze openly. "I'm not safe until I get to Sunnydale."

The story overall might be bullshit, but Ray bought that much. No one could look Fraser in the eye and tell fibs. Ray glanced at Fraser, whose eyebrows twitched. Then Fraser looked at Dief for confirmation, and then nodded to Ray.

"Okay," said Ray. "Okay, we'll help you, but no more stealing cars. We do this legal."

"Whatever," said Faith.

Fraser scratched his eyebrow. "You must realize that even should you evade arrest, leaving a trail of unsolved crimes behind you will only draw attention to your direction and hence your destination."

Faith looked at him with grudging respect. "So what's the plan?"

Ray looked at Fraser again, then turned to Faith. "We can put you on a plane—"

"You're kidding, right?" Faith looked disgusted. "They'd have me hogtied before I left the ground."

"We'll drive you," said Fraser.

Ray blinked. "What?"

Fraser beckoned him aside. "Ray, if we want to ensure the young lady's safety, we have to go with her."

"Yeah, but—"

"And deliver her into the care of her cousin."

"Fraser—"

Dief whuffed.

"I'm sorry, Ray." Fraser tugged on his ear. "Dief won't agree to anything less."

"Fine," said Ray. "Okay. But we take a rental and we fly back."

"Agreed." He crouched down to talk to Dief. "It's your choice if you come with us. You realize you'll have to travel back in cargo."

Dief barked once, decisively.

"Very well, then." Fraser stood up again and straightened his tunic. "Pack up your things," he told Faith.

Faith stared at Fraser for a moment, then looked Ray up and down and leered. "Party time."

 

* * *

 

They hit the road in a rental — a Ford Taurus no one would give a second glance. Faith sprawled in the backseat with Dief, restless and telling dirty jokes that confused Fraser and made Ray laugh despite himself. It wasn't till they passed Des Moines that she fell quiet. Ray looked in the rear view mirror and saw her asleep in the corner, Dief's head on her lap.

"You okay?" Ray asked Fraser.

He looked across, surprised, then nodded. "Of course."

"Good."

 

* * *

 

They stopped for the night at a small dingy motel in Nebraska. Ray sent out for pizza, and Faith sat at the tiny formica table and looked at the two double beds with delicately raised eyebrows.

"I'll take the floor," Fraser told Ray, and went to brush his teeth.

Faith came and knelt on the foot of the bed next to Ray. "So, what do I owe you?"

Ray swallowed a mouthful of pepperoni and gave Dief the last slice. "For what?"

She shrugged one shoulder gracefully, leaning closer. "Pizza, gas, my share of the room."

"Hey, great offer," said Ray, standing up to get some space, "but 1) in case you didn't notice, we're sharing this room, and b) I'm old enough to be your dad."

"So what?" said Faith, eyes alight with wicked amusement. "And Fraser wouldn't mind. Seems mean to make him sleep rough when there's enough room for everyone." She got up and came closer. "Anyway, he'd like to watch, wouldn't you?" Her eyes slid from Ray's face to the bathroom doorway.

Fraser's gaze was shuttered and polite. "No."

Faith stripped off her tank top, revealing a lacy black bra and stood there, defiant and loose-limbed. "Oh, so you want to party too?"

"No," said Fraser, switching off the bathroom light and coming back into the room, and maybe he wasn't straight. At least, he didn't seem the least bit distracted by the kid's not-so-subtle charms. But then, maybe that was a Canadian thing.

Ray stepped away from the jailbait and went to the window, checking through the blinds for anything suspicious. Faith was hot, no question, but she wasn't the one he wanted to be with, and the crossed lines of sexual tension in the room were playing hell with his nerves.

"Hey," said Faith, indignantly. "I'm not a charity case. I pay my way."

"Not this time," said Ray, and moved to the other bed.

Fraser was regarding Faith sternly, but when he spoke, it was kinder than Ray expected. "It's not necessary."

"What's with you guys?" said Faith, frustrated. "Maybe you're jonesing for each other! Whatever, I'm hitting the hay."

Ray studied her a second. "You okay?"

"Five by five," she said, her face a blank to rival Fraser's. Then she put her hands behind her back and unclasped her bra, and Ray hastily looked away. Teenagers — _Jesus!_ Ray thanked his lucky stars Stella had said no to kids. Babies were one thing, but this was a whole other kettle of radioactive worms.

The light went out on Faith's side of the room.

Fraser had hung his tunic on a clothes hanger and was down to his undershirt, suspenders and socks. He plucked one of the pillows off Ray's bed and dropped it on the floor. "I'll just—"

"Don't be brainless," said Ray and patted the bed beside him. It was a big bed, plenty big enough for two adults, even if they were broad-shouldered Mounties who slept like planks.

Fraser stood by the bed, apparently dithering between roughing it out like a hard core Mountie should and politely accepting Ray's unwelcome offer. Meanwhile Ray ignored him. He shucked off his jeans and scooted down under the covers in his t-shirt and shorts, switched off the light and pretended to go to sleep. The room was dark. Ray started to count: one potato, two potato, three potato…

When he got to twelve potato, the mattress dipped and Fraser slid into bed beside him.

Ray bit his lips together, remembering that this was for convenience only, and that there was a fucked-up teenage girl in the next bed. Even if he did have the nerve to jump Fraser, this was definitely not the time.

It was a long while before he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

There was a God Almighty crash. It was still dark. Ray shoved Fraser's arm aside and lunged for his gun, fell out of bed with a thump that winded him, and blinked up from the floor when the light came on.

There were three thugs — Larry, Curly and Moe — muscled, weather-beaten and mean-looking, standing in the doorway. The door was off its hinges.

Curly and Moe looked around, and Curly stormed the bathroom using far more force than he needed to given the door wasn't locked.

Larry's boot came down on Ray's wrist, pinning his gun to the floor. "Where's the girl?"

"Who?" Ray managed not to look at the spare bed. If Faith was there, Larry wouldn't be asking.

There was no sign or sound from Dief either.

"Excuse me," said Fraser, sitting up in bed. "Can we help you?"

"You can help by keeping still and shutting up," said Larry. "Hands where I can see them."

Curly came back from the bathroom with a scrap of white paper. "Tampax wrapper in the trash can."

"The last people must have left it," said Ray. "We're not the period type."

"Sleeping in the same bed, though, eh nancy?" Larry ground his foot on Ray's wrist, making him drop the gun. The bones in Ray's wrist grated against each other, and Ray clenched his teeth to keep from whimpering. Fuck!

"Poofters." Moe spat on Ray's chest.

Ray slumped back on the floor and played along. "So what? You got a problem with that? Don't tell me you came all the way from England to bust us for being queer? No? So get the hell out of our room."

"We're looking for a girl," said Larry, but he finally took his foot away and kicked Ray's gun under the bed.

"We're here for some privacy," said Ray, before Fraser, the most unconvincing liar in the world, could speak up. "Why the hell would we bring some girl along?"

Larry stepped back, but only so Moe could kick Ray in the ribs.

There was a sickening thud from the bed, and Ray craned up to see Curly's gun barrel making intimate with Fraser's gut. Fraser was red in the face, but otherwise expressionless.

"Now, now," said Larry, nudging Ray's leg with his boot to get his attention. Larry had a gun aimed at Ray's chest. "We're not looking for a fuss. Give us the girl and we'll be on our way."

"I'm afraid we have no idea what you're talking about," said Fraser in a voice like gravel.

Ray winced in sympathy.

Fraser continued, "Perhaps if you had a photograph, we could help you look for her. She's obviously extremely important to you."

"This is bigger than you can imagine," said Curly. "Keep your help to yourself, nancy."

"Canadian, right?" said Larry, with a smile that chilled Ray to the core. "If you don't steer clear, I'll have you deported."

"You can't do that," said Ray, outraged.

Fraser licked his lip. "I don't think he's bluffing, Ray."

"You should listen to your boyfriend," said Larry with a cruel smile. "We can make all kinds of things disappear."

"He's not—" started Ray, instinctively. Luckily, Moe interrupted before he said anything stupid.

"She isn't here."

"Bugger," said Larry. He stepped back, and Ray collapsed against the side of the bed. His body throbbed with pain in half a dozen places.

The second his focus wavered, there was a blur and a freight train hit him in the side of the head, sending him reeling. He blinked desperately, trying to make sense of the pain.

Moe stood over him, blood on his knuckles and the butt of his gun.

"Let's get out of here." Ray could just make out the words over the ringing in his ears. He didn't know who was talking. Could be Fraser, even.

There were footsteps, leaving. A car engine roaring, tires on gravel. Silence.

Ray let out a sob of pain, and then pulled himself together. His head hurt, he might have cracked a couple of ribs, but he was okay. "Fucking bastards." The words tasted like blood.

Fraser loomed above him, his head upside down. "Ray, are you all right?"

Ray licked his lip. It was split. That explained the blood. "I'm good. Where the hell is Faith?"

"I imagine she's with Diefenbaker." Fraser's hand came down to haul him upright. "Ray, did you—"

"What?" Ray wobbled on his feet a little, so he decided to keep a hold of Fraser's hand until he got his legs back under him. Then he remembered and dropped Fraser like a hot potato. "Look, sorry about what I said, I—" He reached for his jeans, but just bending down made him feel dizzy, so he went over to the door instead. One of the hinges was twisted, but he closed it as best he could.

"No," said Fraser, still sitting on the bed. "I mean, that was smart thinking, Ray. I don't suppose there's any—"

The room was sharpening up. Ray went over to the table and threw him his hat. "Get dressed. We gotta find Faith."

Fraser turned the hat over in his hands. "Yes, but— Oh." He took a piece of paper from the inside band of his hat, unfolded and read it, then passed it to Ray.

 _Thanks for getting me this far, but don't try to follow me. Safer on my own. F._

Ray rubbed his side, which was going to have a size 12 bruise in a couple of hours. "She's got a point."

Fraser nodded soberly. "Those gentlemen certainly had no trouble tracking us.

"Yeah, so—" Ray stopped dead in the middle of the room and let his head fall, fighting a wave of helplessness.

Fraser was moving around on the bed. In the bed. Half dressed and warm and comforting and— "Ray."

"What?"

"Would you care to— I mean, it's no longer a necessity, but I got the impression you— That is—"

Ray stared at the bedspread and remembered the feel of Fraser's arm around him, breath in his hair. It was ridiculous to hope, especially now when he probably looked like a human punching bag. "Spit it out, Fraser."

The room waited, the little refrigerator in the corner hummed. "Come back to bed," said Fraser softly.

Surprise and desire made Ray gasp. He finally let himself meet Fraser's eye. "You sure?"

Fraser nodded.

Three steps and Ray was there, and Fraser was pulling him down, his hands so gentle on him, his mouth so gentle it hardly hurt at all.

 

* * *

 

By the time they checked out at ten-thirty, Ray almost couldn't tell the bruises from the warm glow where Fraser's mouth had touched him, where they'd touched each other, where Fraser's big strong body had moved against him, careful because they were both sore, but trembling with desire. It had definitely been a good tremble. And now Ray's body blurred into one big mass of nerves and aches and satisfaction. Every time Ray smiled, his lip split open again, but he kept smiling anyway. Couldn't help himself.

So when he went for his credit card and found it missing, he almost didn't care. "Son of a bitch," he said, as a token protest, but Fraser stepped in, and Ray was too busy helping persuade the proprietor to accept Canadian dollars to get really worked up.

In the car, he turned to Fraser. "She took my credit card."

"Yes, Ray." Fraser smiled like a goofball, and Ray grinned back. "Are you going to report it?"

"What? No. Nah." Ray shook his head and put the key in the ignition. "At least she didn't take the car."

 

* * *

 

A week and a half later, back in Chicago, he got a credit card statement. "Looks like she made it to California," he said. "Guess I should cancel my card now."

"Mmm-hmm," said Fraser from the couch. "Come here."

Ray dropped down beside him and was immediately pushed back against the arm of the couch and thoroughly kissed. He didn't even had a chance to put his soda down. "I thought you wanted to watch the game," he said, grinning against Fraser's mouth.

"There are more pressing attractions right here," said Fraser, pushing Ray's sweatshirt up and running his hand lightly over Ray's ribs — still yellow with faded bruises.

Ray twisted up under him, seeking firmer contact. They'd been careful until now 'cause of their injuries, but Ray was healed enough. He wanted all Fraser could give. He kissed Fraser's cheek, his supernaturally smooth jaw and nuzzled the side of his head, about to suggest they relocate to the bedroom.

There was a scratch at the front door.

Fraser raised his head from Ray's collarbone and blinked at him. Ray blinked back.

From the hallway came an impatient bark.

Fraser was up in a flash and yanked the door open. Dief trotted in, sat down and cocked his head proudly. Ray knelt on the couch and watched the reunion.

"We were wondering where you'd got to," said Fraser, reprovingly. "Is she all right?" Then he softened. "It's good to have you back."

Dief flicked his ears and cocked his head.

Fraser blushed. "As a matter of fact, Ray and I have been — ah, somewhat distracted."

Dief shook himself thoroughly.

"Yes, exactly," said Fraser, blushing even harder.

"What does he think of that?" asked Ray.

Fraser gave him a warm smile. "He says it's about time."

Ray grinned. "Good wolf." He stopped off to kiss Fraser, then headed for the kitchen to fill a water bowl.

Dief barked, and Ray turned to see him snapping his teeth at Fraser urgently.

"No, Dief." Fraser raised his eyebrows. "No, as far as I'm aware, there are no vampires in Chicago."

Dief snorted with an air of relief and followed Ray into the kitchen, probably to see if there was any wolf food to be had, AKA pizza.

"Happy families," said Ray, and bent to ruffle his ears. "Welcome home."

 

END


End file.
